


Trying to get to you

by Anonymous



Category: Talking to the Moon - Bruno Mars (Song)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Art Fairchild, heartbroken? Art Fairchild, gone mad? Art Fairchild, talking to the moon?According to his ex, all of the above.





	Trying to get to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSnakeUnicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSnakeUnicorn/gifts).



“No, it’s true,” Jessilyn said, sipping at her tea. Her long red nails clattered against the ceramic mug when she put it down. “Art’s not all there these days. Totally heartbroken over me. It’s really kind of sad.” 

“Well, he needs to snap out of it!” Emily sat up, frowning. She was always the type of person who made the plans in their circle. “He needs to get out there and get dating again. It’s not like you’re sitting at home mooning over him or missing what you had.”

“Please,” Jessilyn scoffed. “What we had was three dates and some passable makeout sessions, nothing more. He was so clingy, ugh! I couldn’t bear it!” She shook her head. “I’m not the monogamous type anyway, and I’ve never believed in all this true love bullshit. I just wanted to smack him around the head sometimes though. ‘Hey Art, fairytales don’t real! Get your head out of your ass!’” She picked up her mug again, but did not drink. “I swear to jebbus, if I have to see his sad face staring up at the moon from his bedroom window for the next week every time I walk home from work, I will not be held responsible for my actions.” 

“You live two doors down from him, what a nightmare, honestly,” Angel put in. “I wouldn’t want to see any of my exes ever again, never mind every day.”

“Guys, aren’t we being a bit harsh here?” That was Beth’s voice. She was the quietest one of the group, and had been sitting back and listening to Jessilyn rant for the last ten minutes without saying a word. “Art’s a sensitive boy. He does believe in all that stuff. I think it’s kind of sweet. I mean, naive, but sweet.”

“But it’s totally bonkers!” Jessilyn said. “Okay, I didn’t want to say it, but I will. He’s not just staring up at the moon, he’s talking to it. He doesn’t even see me walking by. He’s having a whole conversation. It’s not normal, what he’s doing, sitting in the dark muttering to himself. It’s effing creepy.” She peered into her mug, frowning at the remains of her tea, then set it down on the table. “Like, I’m half considering Facebook messaging his mother.”

“Ugh, no, don’t do that,” Emily said quickly. “Just stay out of it as best you can. Obvs you can’t avoid walking by his house, but just, like, don’t look up. Don’t let it bother you. It’s his creepy deal, okay?” 

“I’m going to try to be a bit more friendly with him, if that’s okay with you, J,” Beth said. “I think he needs social interaction without the possibility of romance, and well, taken AND gay here, so.” 

“Sure, sure, do whatever,” Jessilyn said, waving a hand at Beth. “He’s not mine in any sense, and I just hope he gets over me and moves the hell on ASAP. If you think you can help, go for it.” 

Beth pulled her phone out of her bag and started typing a message, and the conversation moved on. 

——-

“Look, I don’t know how to explain it, but someone’s talking back,” Art said the next day, as Beth sat across from him in her small living room. 

“That’s not really an explanation,” Beth said. “Because Jessilyn doesn’t…she isn’t into you, I’m sorry if that’s hard to hear.” 

“It’s not Jessilyn,” Art said, and he smiled softly into his coffee mug. “It’s, this is going to sound weird, but it’s what it is, it’s literally the Moon, okay?” 

“LITerally?” Beth said, her voice going up into a squeak of worry. “Art, no. You’re imagining things.” She tried to smile. “There’s no real Man in the Moon or anything. Come on. This is mental.” 

“I know it sounds mental, okay?” Art said. “I know. But I swear it’s real. And if it’s not, well, I’m a total fool, sitting alone talking to the moon, and I know that too.” 

Beth paused, taking a sip of her tea. “Have you considered getting some help?” she said gently. “Like some counselling or something? You should see your doctor.” 

“Listen, Beth, I’ll think about it.” Art set his mug down. “I do appreciate you checking up on me. You’re like everybody’s big sister or something.” He gave her a smile. “But I’m just going to have to work through this in my own way, okay?” 

What more could she do? “Okay,” Beth said, setting her own mug down and raising her hands in surrender. “It’s your life.” 

——

[Local newspaper article, three weeks later]

Arthur Fairchild, a promising chemistry student at Greenfields University, was reported missing three days ago by his flatmate Robert. According to Robert, Arthur had been acting ‘off’ for some time, following a breakup with ex-girlfriend and neighbour Jessilyn Jones. 

Jessilyn commented, “Art was a bit too good for this world, you know? A sweet bloke, but not ultimately my type. Still, though, I’m worried, I hope he turns up soon.” 

Another friend, Beth Jackson, added, “Art was going through some stuff, but nothing that would make him vanish like this. I hope he’s okay!” 

Arthur’s mother, Jane Fairchild, was the one who reported her son missing. “Art’s a steady boy. I’m worried he was kidnapped or something, though I don’t know why anyone would — it’s not like we’re rich. But if he’s somewhere out there, I hope he knows that we’re waiting for him to come home soon.” 

The search continues. 

——

One moment Art was sitting in his armchair, looking out the window and up at the bright full moon shining down into his darkened bedroom. In the next, a doorway made of moonlight appeared before him. Slowly he rose from the chair and laid a hand to the doorknob, glowing silver-bright. 

It turned, and the door opened, creaking and groaning as though it were on rusty hinges. A wide room appeared, lit by stars, empty except for a lone white figure, who turned toward him. 

Her face was young and bright, and the light of her eyes was like the stars. She said nothing, but smiled, and beckoned with her hand. 

Art stepped through, and the door closed behind him, the knob slipping from his grasp.


End file.
